I wrote this experimental piece just before taking a journey that was important to me to take. As I was arriving at my destination, a large rainbow appeared . . . (Incidentally on my way to see the first show that inspired the story “Big Beat.”)
The Road Once Taken
He looked behind him once at the lifetime he is. He saw a box he calls “house,” and perhaps more often “home.” Some dirt in front of the box where grass pokes through here and there; two strips of concrete and a place his car often rests. Steps to a door in the box. He turned back toward his future, what he is that he does not yet know that he is. A long strip of asphalt he would call to anyone else “road,” and the unseen that to follow it is to discover. Not just follow it, travel upon it. Things it leads to, things that surround it. Places he may arrive at that will make him forget for the rest of the time his body breathes that there was ever a road that brought him there.
Key in hand he turns the cylinder to begin the box that moves him where he wishes to direct it; he presses the energy source to move. He does not look back.
As he watches the sunset upon the ocean, all he can think of is how much it looks like a rose floating in the sky, lighting the directions to where the impulses within him he cannot quite fully understand might move him.
The video at the end tells the real story, and there’s a link to the site in the comments. I just needed to do something to raise at least a little awareness about this, so, this one should make you groan for just so many reasons . . .
Pun-isment Intended
“But I really want to say it!”
“No, no, you can’t. You can’t!”
“But I really want to!”
“No, no. It’ll undermine the entire point of the whole campaign if you make light of it in this way!”
“But I’ve just got to! It’ll bring more attention to the problem, isn’t that the point?”
“Right, but this is a bona fide monster who steals children from their beds at night, forces them to mutilate peoples faces, rape the girls stolen out of their beds at night, and kill as an army for no good reason whatsoever. What could possibly be gained from making light of such a thing?”
“Your grandfather used to make light of the Holocaust. What about that?”
“That’s different, he’s a survivor.”
“So you ask him if he went to summer camp when he was a kid, to which he chuckles ‘Oh yes, I went to camp all right,’ and it’s ok to make fun of millions of lives slaughtered, but I can’t make one little pun to raise awareness about the most wanted man on the international list? Hardly seems fair . . .”
“All right, all right. Just say it already,”
“Kony Island!”
“See that doesn’t even make any sense! Feel better now?”
The first draft was written the other night coming home from dancing to a band founded upon percussion. Draft two was written separately after dancing to a blues band in no way less sacredly. Thought I’d try my hand at a little mystical literature this week. Hope y’all enjoy!
Big Beat
I’ve heard it said the universe was created by a single movement of the hand of pure consciousness. Like the skin stretched across the top of a drum, undifferentiated matter unstirred and silent had no reason not to be created, nor reason to be, until an impulse sent through it all a wave; the big bang was initially a single beat from that which knew that light could be. In the beginning consciousness created the rhythm of the reality we all dance to till this day, the one consideration of the infinite, the single stroke writing all of creation into existence. What followed was the wave from that first consideration, that gesture toward the substance of the infinite. The wave was a sound.
Those clinically inclined call this “Big Bang,” and as our common mind can conceive it, the symphony that erupted accordingly, more or less confirms this to be as accurate an analysis as any. In the beginning, once it was begun, was the sound of creation itself riding its own wave. The ripple of amplitude spreading across untouched substance gave rise to matter crashing into itself on all different wavelengths and frequencies. Some created stars and moons and planets, some created atoms that were attracted to other creations still. In many places holes were cut from where the matter had been molded into itself. From Conscious beat to sun to atom, the universe made music to behold the creation of itself. What thought it was pure existence into all that had not form; the hand came down upon one point just once, and the ripple of every frequency flowed from center outward. Every variation, every manifestation, every formation from the original bang, the solitary beat that put into motion the music which sang out infinitely in the ears of all who can be conscious of the creation we find ourselves dancing to, even before we know we can hear.
Some say that it was spoken. Or less, that all was, is, and will be again, with merely a breath. That life is more a song than the beat that accompanies the flow of our very substance as we listen to the single word the Many or One spoke for us all to hear for all time. And as we sing and dance, listen and step, and harmonize, whatever form the origin, which certainly contained both, it is the participation in the song, whatever our role in it, that qualifies for worship to that which we are happy to have become.
And it’s even been said that Shiva dances to destroy what we know of our entire infinite universe. To dance, though, one knows breath. And one who follows the God of destructive dance knows that such a dance is danced only that another breath may create us again; not an end, but a beginning. Shiva dances as another beat of Consciousness keeps itself dancing, larger than we can imagine. How merciful the music makers that we need never know the completion of one breath or beat to another as we reside within the dance of our own songs safely with the one Big Bang singing all the existence unto us we would ever want to know.
Hi! I'm Tygarjas Twyrls Bigstyck. Currently the home of the long work in-progress "The Chronicles of the Angels of Eden." Prior to this, I wrote about a conception of divinity that might be helpful for those willing to think outside of organized religion, and subsequently a place for me to flex my creative muscles as I devoted a year of blogging to short fiction. Enjoy!
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